


Instigator

by LydiaStJames



Series: Reunions [1]
Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Morning After, SMUT ALERT, pynchweek16
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2016-08-14
Packaged: 2018-08-08 18:03:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7767790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LydiaStJames/pseuds/LydiaStJames
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adam patted down his body, fingers searching for clothes, but came up empty. Which probably meant he somehow engaged in illicit acts with Ronan Lynch.</p><p>Again.</p><p>It really was high school all over again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Instigator

**Author's Note:**

> PynchWeek Day 2: Morning After

When Adam woke up, he was distinctly aware that he was experiencing his first hangover. His friends had complained about them before - Blue seemed particularly prone to them, because no one could resist saying  _ well look at you, you tiny thing _ ,  _ I bet you barely need anything to get drunk! _ and she thought she could prove them wrong - but, being that he didn’t drink, he’d avoided it. 

 

But he broke his own rule last night. All it took was one spectacularly bad night, filled with spectacularly boring people, all of who he went to school with ten years ago and still insisted on calling him  _ Poverty Parrish _ , and a free bar promising distraction. God, he wasn’t even poor anymore - he was a  _ doctor, _ Jesus - so why did he let them get to him?

 

Aglionby boys. Blue had warned him not to go to his reunion, but did Adam listen?  _ No. _ He had to go and take advantage of the free tequila, and now his head was killing him and his back hurt like a mother and  _ fucking hell, _ why were his sheets so  _ scratchy? _ A hangover should not have the power to turn expensive sheets into sandpaper. 

 

Adam reluctantly opened his eyes and groaned. He didn’t feel ready to face the bright sun, not yet, but it found him anyway. As did a pillow, straight to his face.

 

Wait.

 

“Shut up. ‘S early.”

 

Oh God.

 

Adam shifted toward the voice. He was met with the back of a buzzed head, the owner’s face planted straight into the pillow. It didn’t matter, though, Adam knew who it was as soon as his eyes scanned his bedmate’s broad back. It was miles of muscles decorated by an elaborate tattoo, and Adam knew of only one individual who looked so distinct. Adam patted down his body, fingers searching for clothes, but came up empty.

 

Which probably meant he somehow engaged in illicit acts with Ronan Lynch.

 

_ Again. _

 

It really was high school all over again.

 

Ronan’s heavy breathing indicated he had quickly fallen asleep again. Adam took the moment of peace to put together the previous night. He didn’t even  _ remember _ Ronan being at the reunion. And why would he even  _ go? _ Ronan hated Aglionby, and hadn’t he dropped out before graduation? Adam didn’t remember seeing him at the ceremony, at least. He shouldn’t have even been allowed in.

 

_ Think, think, think. _ What had happened? Adam remembered the open bar. He had too much tequila, that was for certain. Carruthers had been bothering him about something - nothing new there - and then he had run into Richard Gansey. 

 

Gansey - that had to be the key. Ronan would have only come with him. Yes, that was right. Now Adam remembered finding Gansey, catching up for a moment. What had Gansey said?  _ Do you remember Ronan Lynch? He’s around here somewhere. He only agreed to come because of the open bar. _

 

Adam couldn’t remember what he had sad in response. He hoped he didn’t admit the truth.  _ Why, yes, I do know Ronan Lynch, quite intimately, really. In junior year I made out with him at Cheng’s party, and then a couple weeks before graduation I blew him behind the gym. No big deal.  _

 

It was so stupid, really. They had barely knew each other, then, and looking back at it now they were  _ so young, holy Jesus _ . The kiss was harmless enough. Adam was at one of Henry Cheng’s parties and it was horribly boring. He found Ronan outside smoking and thought he could pass the time with a little fling, not realizing he was an Aglionby student and he’d have to see him in the halls every day.

 

The blow job, though,  _ that _ had been a mistake - an admittedly good one - that had only started because they were partners for a project. Ronan was unhelpful, as usual, and Adam was losing his temper, also as usual, and there was yelling involved. But then somehow he was kissing Ronan furiously, hands grasping at his tie, and the chemistry room was only going to be empty for so long, so Ronan led him outside. Things escalated. 

 

Adam had never done anything like that before - yeah, at sixteen he had kissed his (then) girlfriend and she let his fingers trace her curves over clothes - but his fling with Ronan was very, very different. 

 

And then they never spoke of it again. Just turned in their project, shook hands - like they were some sort of  _ bros, _ seriously, so weird - and that was that.

 

(And then, okay, maybe Adam ran into him after graduating from his undergrad, but barely anything happened. Hardly even worth mentioning.)

 

Last night was starting to come back to him in small memories. He couldn’t remember meeting Ronan again, he was suddenly just  _ there, _ at the bar, and Ronan was ordering tequila shots for them. And then they took them outside the banquet hall - were they running away from Gansey? That sounded familiar - and Adam pulled him into a deserted hallway. He could see Ronan’s tongue running against the rim of the shot - the bartender had dipped it in salt - and then he was knocking it back.

 

And Adam -  _ God _ \- he was such a fucking instigator. He thought through everything so carefully all the time, but Ronan knocked out his common sense. Because Adam remembered pushing Ronan up against the wall, running his tongue from the hollow of Ronan’s neck up his throat, before he knocked back his own tequila shot.  _ Salt was salt, _ right?

 

_ “So fucking thirsty,”  _ Ronan had said. But it was instant - the attraction - and Ronan was pulling Adam’s shirt out from his slacks, fingers pressing into his hip bones, and he pulled Adam to him to prove how quickly he could be turned on.

 

Then it got blurry again. They must have gotten a hotel - where else would have such shitty sheets? - because even drunk, he doubted either were stupid enough to feel eachother up at an Aglionby reunion.

 

“Shit, shit, shit,” he breathed. 

 

His curses woke Ronan, though he only flipped over, exposing his chest to the open air. Adam’s eyes caught the trail of bite marks that trickled down Ronan, lower and lower and lower. 

 

_ Yep,  _ that seemed about right. Adam had a thing for biting.

 

He slipped out of bed, praying Ronan wouldn’t stir. He wasn’t ready to confront Ronan about this, not yet, and he needed some time to put together more of the night. How far had they gone? 

 

Adam had to shut his eyes, almost dizzy from the memory.

 

_ Ronan got him into the hotel room, unbuttoning Adam’s dress shirt instantly. He swept it off his shoulders, down his arms, but it stayed stuck around his wrists. It trapped Adam’s hands together momentarily, caught behind his back, and Ronan used it to his advantage. Ronan was kissing him everywhere - lips, below the ear, his throat, nipple - all equal parts licking and sucking, until Adam finally got his hands back. They were on Ronan’s belt instantly. _

 

He tore himself from the memory. Once in the bathroom, Adam splashed his face with water. What was it about Ronan that made him lose all control? Sure, he was disgustingly hot - who didn’t like blue eyes and wide shoulders that tapered into a thin waist and, okay, yes, even the impractical tattoo was maybe a turn-on - but this was nonsense. Adam rarely slept with the people he was actually  _ dating, _ so how did Ronan keep  _ doing  _ this to him?

 

And, worse yet, the more memories that came back, the more he remembered how fucking good it was, and now he couldn’t even regret it. There were three flashbacks in particular that he couldn’t get off his mind:

 

_ Ronan pushing him against the wall, grinding into Adam. He didn’t even let Adam take a breath from this; he stole a kiss so fast that Adam shook against him, legs wobbling _

 

_ The way Ronan slid his fingers down the length of Adam, palm groping him through slacks, before he finally slid the zipper down. Ronan pulled Adam’s pants down, then his briefs, and then he had Adam in his mouth. Almost all of him. _

 

_ Ronan’s tongue being fascinated with him. Licking up Adam’s shaft, down his thigh, across his hip bones, back to the head, before taking him whole again.  _

 

God. Adam was already hard, just at the memory, and he did not appreciate it. He was still sore - and now he knew what from - and somehow he knew that jerking off in a shitty hotel bathroom would not do it for him, not after the previous night.

 

There was a knock at the door. Adam looked down at himself and cursed. Naked and hard was not how he wanted to greet Ronan - even knowing Ronan had seen him this way plenty the night before - and he grabbed for a towel.

 

Ronan was squinting one eye shut when he opened the door. He had thought to pull on underwear, not it was pointless. Seeing Ronan in form-fitting boxer briefs did nothing to help Adam’s current situation. Instinctively he twisted his body further behind the door, hiding from Ronan’s view.

 

“So you weren’t a dream,” Ronan muttered. 

 

Adam swallowed. “Uh, nope.”

 

“That’s surprising.” His eyes drifted down Adam’s body, looking almost dismayed when his lower half disappeared behind the door. “Let me in.”

 

Adam grabbed the edge of the bathroom door, keeping it firmly in place. “Why?”

 

_ “Because I have to piss, Parrish.” _

 

That was fair. He had just woken up, and they’d been drinking all night. Adam let him in, though he darted around the edge of the door to avoid being in the same room as Ronan for too long. (And also, admittedly, to hide his boner. Jesus Christ.) A minute later he heard the shower start, and not wanting to linger on  _ that  _ image, Adam decided to plan his great escape.

 

How he found his clothes in the disaster of the hotel room was a miracle. He counted four condom wrappers - four  _ fucking  _ condom wrappers - and prayed they just kept accidentally destroying them in their drunken stupor. They triggered another memory -  _ Adam, bent over the bed, stomach to it, as Ronan pushed into him; Ronan biting down his back, over and over again - _ and he realized why his back hurt so much.

 

Did they  _ both _ like to bite? Dear God.

 

Adam was buttoning his shirt when Ronan kicked the door open. He whirled on him, confused why the shower was still running and yet Ronan was not  _ in it,  _ and snapped, “What?”

 

“Leaving so soon?” 

 

Adam did not like the coo in Ronan’s voice. It was too early to appreciate Ronan’s sarcasm, and his head hurt too much. “This was a mistake. I need to go.”

 

“You don’t seem that upset about it,” Ronan drawled, eyes flicking downward.

 

Dammit. In his surprise, Adam had forgotten to conceal his stupid hard-on, and his slacks did a poor job of concealing it. He pressed on, hoping a terse tone would distract Ronan. “I’m not like you, Lynch, I don’t just do this sort of thing.”

 

“And what makes you think  _ I _ do?” 

 

He scoffed.  _ Because how else would you be so good at it? _ Adam would never say  _ that, _ though, so he settled with, “I’m still leaving. I have a horrible headache, I need to get something for it. I don’t know how you’re functioning right now.”

 

“I’m a seasoned pro,” Ronan said. “And that’s what the shower is for.”

 

“How is a shower supposed to help a hangover?”

 

Ronan’s eyebrow tilted upward. “It’s not the shower itself, but what I planned to  _ do _ in the shower.”

 

The phrase settled in Adam’s brain for a moment before he understood Ronan’s implication. Frustratingly, his mind and body had differing opinions about whether they were interested in the image. Out of reflex, Adam turned away from Ronan to save himself further embarrassment.

 

Ronan’s laugh trailed into the bathroom, followed by the sound of the shower curtain scraping against the bar. Adam kept his back to the bathroom door, knowing Ronan never shut it, and told himself to just leave. His headache could equally be solved with some Advil and a long nap. He didn’t need Ronan. He just needed to leave.

 

Adam ran a hand through his hair and groaned. This was stupid. 

 

Ronan Lynch was such a cad.

 

It only took him five steps to cross to the shower. Ronan must have heard him come in, because he peaked out from behind the curtain to watch Adam undress.

 

“Who said you could join?” Ronan asked.

 

“You literally _just_ did.”

 

“Did I?”

 

Adam paused on his last few buttons. Oh, God, Ronan really  _ hadn’t _ invited him, had he? All he had said was that he’d fix his own headache, and once again it was  _ Adam _ who had taken it to the next step. 

 

Ronan just rolled his eyes and said, “Just come on. I think I’m used to this, finally.”

 

Adam didn’t ask him to clarify. Instead, he reversed his actions, buttoning his shirt back up for the second time in minutes, and muttered under his breath. Ronan groaned, long and low and irritated, and said,  _ “Parrish, _ seriously, just get the fuck in here.”

 

Adam glared at him icily. “No. I’m leaving.”

 

Ronan stared him down, looking almost exhausted. Adam didn’t understand what he did to deserve that look, considering the situation. He was trying very hard not to look down - to keep his eyes firmly in place with Ronan’s - and he said, very slow, “Nice seeing you, Lynch. It won’t happen again.”

 

“I’m sure.”

 

Adam’s fingers twitched at his sides, and he gripped the leg of his pants. “It won’t.”

 

As if to taunt him, Ronan just shrugged. Then, because he really was an asshole, Ronan grabbed himself - his large palm easily fitting around his dick - and pulled his hand down it tantalizingly slow. As he did it, he never looked away from Adam, as if it were a dare.

 

“Door is that way,” Ronan said, jerking his head to the exit.

 

Adam shut his eyes, hoping a moment of peace would allow him clarity, but it didn’t work. He kicked his slacks to the floor and hopped in the shower, shirt still on, and decided to deal with it later.

 

Adam used his lips to silence the laugh already hitting the edge of Ronan’s mouth. Ronan Lynch was a goddamn tease, and that was that. What was Adam supposed to do?

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! C:
> 
> Very tempted to write this from Ronan's perspective, too, because I envision him as: relatively inexperienced Ronan, completely confused his whole life when Adam Parrish keeps hitting on him out of the blue (not that he'd complain), even more confused when Adam acts like Ronan is the player seducing him.


End file.
